Anything For You
by Quirky Del
Summary: Spot has to face one of his biggest fears, all in the name of love. [ONE SHOT] FOR FACETIOUSLYMISCHIEVIOUS


**This is fluffy oneshot for Facetiouslymischievious! May she have a lovely Spotalicious Birthday!**

**Standard Disclaimer: Don't own Newsies...**

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Spot Conlon was scared.

This was not the way that he had ever envisioned spending his time. But he had to do it. He had to swallow the lump in his throat and just get over it. He had to go in.

His crystal blue orbs squinted as the afternoon sun showered his thin face in brilliant rays. He tugged his cap lower to shield his eyes as he walked up the steps two at a time. His long fingers shoved his rolled up sleeves back a little more in an attempt to keep the heat at bay. He reluctantly pulled his hat off as he reached the glass front doors, shoving it messily in his back pocket. The little bell jingled as the door shut behind him.

Time to face the music.

He smoothed his stray hairs down with one hand as his other rested on the tip of his cane out of habit. He always liked to have his weapon of choice at hand whenever entering a hostile environment. Parted lips emitted a heavy sigh as his errand closed in on him. His lids narrowed as he caught sight of his new enemy rounding the corner. This was it.

"Take a seat, laddie," an aging man gestured to the plain brown chair.

Spot stood frozen a moment before slowly seating himself in the rickety chair.

"Sure bejeyus, it's been a while since yew've seen the likes of a barber, eh?" the man continued, his heavy Irish brogue dousing every word.

Spot stiffened when he felt hands on his head and he had to fight the urge to clobber the old man. No one touched his hair – well no one except for he and his girl. He loved the feel of her silky hands running through his strands...Spot shook himself from the distracting thoughts. He found his mind wandered easily whenever he thought of her, which was more and more often with each passing day.

The barber began to spritz his hair and he felt his hands automatically curl into fists. He knew it was a silly thing to have a 'rule' about, but still it was there. Everyone knew that if they valued their health at all, there were four things you never, ever, under any circumstances, did when Spot Conlon was around. One – you never insulted him. Two – you never touched his cane. Three – you never ever flirted with his girl. Four – you never touched his hair.

And now here he was, actually paying someone two bits to not only touch his hair, but to cut it as well. He had really lost it now.

"So, how much yew be wantin me to cutting off, then?" the lilting voice broke through Spot's thoughts.

"Eh, not much, pops. Just a little bit off the ends. Just enough to," he paused a beat while a grin appeared, "look respectable." He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. "It's our anniversary, and I want to take her someplace nice" he added, the amusement in his voice apparent. "Like some hair cut is gonna make me look like a proper gentleman ..." he scoffed slightly.

"Well, yew'd be surprised at what a smart hair cut could do fer yew. Help yew make the right impression, it will," he winked.

"Yeah, well if me boys find out about this it will make the _wrong _impression. Don't want them to think I'm goin soft over a dame."

"A dame, is it? Or somethin' more?" the codger conspired.

Spot laughed. "Something more..." he agreed, wearing a faraway face.

"Then yew did the right thing, wantin to look good; 'tis not every day yew get your lady friend out fer an anniversary."

Spot nodded slightly but then he began to panic when he saw something gleam out of the corner of his eye. The barber had picked up a pair of shiny scissors and they were getting dangerously close to his locks. "Now – don't go crazy, old man. Just a little cut – don't make me look like no Army stiff!"

The barber snorted. "Son, I've been doin this a long time. I know what I'm doin," he assured.

Spot held his breath, just wanting the traumatic ordeal to be over.

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Spot stood in front of a mirror, looking quite smug. He looked good. His hair was clipped in a perfectly flattering fashion...not too short, not too long. He had borrowed a few things here and there, the best clothing that each newsie had to offer. He was now clad in his best trousers, a shirt borrowed from one of his Brooklyn boys, Jack's nice gray overcoat, and he even had managed to wrangle an awful bow tie from Denton. The bow tie he wasn't so sure of, but he thought it added a nice touch so he would suffer through it. When he had first put the tie on he heard a few of the boys snort, but they were silenced very quickly with one good hard glare.

As he made his way to her house he thought about the first time he had met his golden haired angel. He saw her sitting in Prospect Park one late afternoon. He had just sold his last pape and was going to sit by Lullwater Pond before joining the boys for a poker game later that day. He had sat down just as he caught sight of a pretty girl seemingly oblivious to the world. She was sitting alone, her bare feet skimming the water, her nose buried in a book. He smiled to himself at the calming picture and decided right then and there that whomever she was, he had to know her. He got up and sat beside her, flashing his best rakish smile when her hazel eyes met his blue. He had struck up a conversation easily enough and they hadn't spent one day apart since.

That was 12 months and two days ago...yes, the mighty Spot Conlon had fallen so hard he even knew the exact amount of time that they had been together. He shuddered at the reaction his fellow newsies would have to that knowledge, if they knew how much this girl had him wrapped round her finger.

Too soon he found himself at the beloved doorstep. He forced a gulp down as his knuckles rapped at the door. A grin stretched his mouth when she appeared, soothing his nerves at once.

"Heya, Aviela...you look gorgeous," he cooed.

A pleased pink coloured her as he led her outside. "You look very handsome, yourself." She looked at him fondly before her lips quirked a bit. "Spot, did you actually get a barber cut?"

He smirked. "Yeah, you like it?"

Aveila smiled broadly. "It looks wonderful. But, I thought you hated anyone messing with your hair."

He took her hand in his. "Not a big deal..." he muttered easily, feigning indifference. "Anything for you, darlin'. I'll always do anything for you."

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**There you have it: ) I really hoped you enjoyed this, FM! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!**

**PS – Thanks to anyone else who reads this, too! I hope you liked it, also: ) .**


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